To Have, To Lose
by Murmurer
Summary: Not everything is as it seems. No one likes to serve as a replacement. Not even words. Yet are some things better left unsaid? GuyAsch BL


Title: To Have; To Lose  
Word Count: 783  
Prompt: Beginnings  
Warnings: BL, slight Asch OOC (Or maybe my writing just sucks, hah.) 

Summary: Not everything is as it seems. No one likes to serve as a replacement. Not even words. Yet are some things better left unsaid?  
Disclaimer: One, I cannot draw. Two, I have resorted to creating fanfiction.

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_Replace hate with have; love with lost_ _: all for the sake of compensation. _

A shadow will always follow faithfully, but this boy wasn't a shadow. As a child I was enamored by his ways. When he smiled, I was compelled to smile back. Now he was reformed, something I never could have foreseen. It was no wonder that he managed to take me by surprise. 

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here." I turned around. Speak of the devil. I gave a nod in acknowledgement and waited to be approached. He did just that.

Silence did well to accompany us. I narrowed my eyes at silence's utter incompetence. I didn't have time for this!

I indignantly demanded, "Where did you think I'd go? Home? _This_ is my home." I expected an answer. Instead he chuckled, and I felt my face heat up. Hearing him laugh was unnerving. Maybe it was for my sake as much as his. We both struggled through tension.

The quiet settled in quite comfortably like dust upon a windowsill. Stir it up and it explodes in your face, only to nestle back down. I lacked the patience to deal with it any longer and threw a glare at him.

He quietly stated, "I would never get cozy in Daath. Too many eyes." He noticed my penetrating gaze, so I backed down. I began to feel self-conscious. Not that I let it show. Never would I give him the pleasure of knowing my weakness.

It was a simple one bound to plague thousands of others. Still I clung to my secret. Love led to folly.

Yes, my bane was an emotion bound to the name 'love'. It weakened the knees, tempted the mind, and clouded one's judgment. What little rational I possessed served me well during our conversation. Then again, I had a limit. If I were to appear standoffish as to hide this, then so be it.

Rudely I retorted, "Who'd want to look at you?" Ignorant of my own words, I looked up at him; I nearly bit my tongue.

He looked as if he'd been struck. I would've offered an apology, but he spoke sooner, "Please, don't make this difficult for me." I knew the initial shock was gone from his face, but the pitiful expression burned into my eyes. With a scowl I drew away.

To request for something and to receive it are two completely different things. They may begin with the same letters, but really, nothing is ever that simple. I mean, think of it this way: to love is to lose; to hate is to have.

Could I be selfish enough to hate him? No, because I love him. He whispered, "Asch, I don't want to lose you." He doesn't want to _love_ me. A little louder he added, "But I can't have you either." I suppose he doesn't _hate_ me at the very least.

I shook my head and gave him a compromising suggestion, "Pick one so that I no longer have to make things so difficult for you."

He sighed, probably in exasperation. "If that's the case, let's just start over." The thought horrified me. As unstable as things were, they managed to give me a peace of mind. To be left behind forgotten and discarded like an old toy frightened me beyond belief. And this time, I think my emotions showed.

I called out his name, "Guy…" I knew my voice was trembling. It was his fault I acted this way, so unlike myself. It all began with love; he was the root of everything!

Then he said it: "I can't follow you around like this anymore. You're acting as if I'm your shadow! Look, you can never lose your shadow, and that simply doesn't work for me. Sometimes I just need my space. Understand?" I grit my teeth and steeled my resolve. I would accept whatever he threw at me. Love did really strange things. I could only pretend to understand half of them, let alone explain a quarter of them.

Selfishly I reminded him, "I thought you didn't want to lose me." After this, I promised myself that I would take the burden of his rejection. It must've been my imagination when I thought I felt something wet run down my cheek. Tears weren't my weakness; I didn't need to hide those. I looked him in the eye. What's this?

He was smiling. For whatever reason I did not know, but I found the ability to smile back.

"Truth be told, I already lost you a long time ago, Luke."

He understood everything.


End file.
